So now it's finished with.

And I mean every single everything. My entire life's work— gone, slipped past my fingers, vamoose, adios, bye-bye.

Because I've been robbed of what I love more than anything else in the world—

I'm closing the factory...forever! …I'm sorry…

All those great workers – nice, but stupid, people. Why did they do this to me? I thought Slugworth was the best guy in the world, Prodnose was pretty understanding person, and Ficklegrubber was always so friendly to me, giving me tips on chocolate—backstabbers, all. Snaky little… weasels. They all said I was a genius, they promised they'd take me under their wing. I thought they liked me, until they took…

I was so sure they would like me, so absolutely and positively sure that people would understand me more than he did. They'd understand, I thought, They'd never hate me, they'd love me. I let them see all my fantasies, all my glorious tricks. How to stir fairytales in a saucepan, to brew witchery in a teakettle—everything I conjured up, I let them see—publicly, too, sometimes.

They're all like him, though. The one thing I could do right; they immediately said 'No, you can't do that anymore. We'll take it.'. Just like a Mom or Dad would do, exactly like them. Taking the sweet things in life and stashing it away somewhere so they can enjoy it later. I will hate people, till I die, till I die.

Jealous idiots who can't think up their own candy!

Why do I have to be a human being, anyway? I'd rather be a cocoa plant, one of those nice, thick, healthy ones with green leaves. To breathe chocolate, to thrive in chocolate, to feel chocolate – to be chocolate. Yeah. Wouldn't that be great? Great, fantastic. But I'm a person instead, which is a far less chocolate-oriented type of species. Which sucks.

And I guess I seem a tad nuts since I love chocolate the way I do, but that's why I am so successful. Ever since I was a little squirt of a kid—

—I was a kid, kiddy, kiddy, little boy, child, kid—

My house was gone.

Oh!

Daddy, where did you go? Father! Dad! Papa! Please come back! Come back, I'm sorry—!

….

I loved chocolate ever since then, really. Like an obsession, a pretty big obsession, but I don't mind cause I adore my chocolate. But, it's not my chocolate anymore. It's Fickelgrubber's, and Slugworth's, and Prodnose's chocolate now.

And d'you know what?

They can keep the chocolate recipes. I am not gonna press any charges, that's right. They can keep it, cause they've ruined it with their slimy, covetous, icky, gross, despicable hands…!

They've damaged the magic, ripped it to tiny shreds, snapped it in two, crushed it like a beetle. I hope you're happy. That's right on. They damaged every bit of good there was left in my—

—My, my, my!—

Let's see the damage, shall we?

Don't throw the candy in the fire…! I might not be allergic, I might not have allergies, I…! I could try a piece and we'll find out, and I don't care if my nose itches. They make the prettiest flames I've ever seen, though. Like…fire the color of blue pearls and silver…

(The END)

I don't own anything except the mentally twisted part of this story. He-he-he...!